The Ocean's Princess
by AriesOrion
Summary: Rhea Jackson was born into this world, memory fuzzy and body weak; her life connected to one being miles beneath the surface of the ocean. Poseidon is a selfish god with the world at his fingertips and an ocean of blood beneath his feet. Yet, one look into his daughters eyes mirroring his own, and he's irrevocably lost. Self-Insert
1. Chapter 1 - Fate

Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson or any of the characters

* * *

Summary: Rhea Jackson was born into this world, memory fuzzy and body weak; her life connected to one being miles beneath the surface of the ocean. Poseidon is a selfish god with the world at his fingertips and an ocean of blood beneath his feet. Yet, one look into his daughters eyes mirroring his own, and he's irrevocably lost. Self-Insert

* * *

Chapter 1: Fate

* * *

''We have no choice but to act now, if we desire to achieve another outcome. You know that as well we do, sister.''

Unseeing eyes stared onto a magnificent tapestry, strings of all colours interwoven to form a piece of cloths beyond human comprehension. Eyes that saw nothing, yet everything studied a luminescent strand coloured a mixture between green and blue – its brilliance masking the strands interwoven with it by far.

Yet to those unseeing eyes it was lacking. Its potential buried and hidden, never to be revealed to the world – eventually fading into nothingness.

''I know.'' A hoarse voice answered unhurriedly, echoing strangely in the air. ''Still, we have never interfered before. We are the ultimate neutrals, always watching, yet never involving ourselves.''

A third voice interrupted with quiet sharpness. ''It is necessary.''

''Then we shall tarry no longer. Especially since we have already found the perfect candidate.''

A single eye focused into the distance, power flaring with wild abandon – and the tapestry slowly shifted, a faintly coloured light appearing where before had been none.

And time continued to pass.

* * *

Sally Jackson had never liked hospitals.

She found the air too chemical, the smell sticking to her clothes, a constant reminder of her previous destination.

Even when her parents had still been alive, and it had just been unimportant small visits, it had always made her feel subdued for days afterwards. Watching her uncle die, even if he had never treated her particularly well, only deepened those particular feelings.

Yet, in this moment she could not find it in herself to feel even the slightest hint of discontentment.

The bundle in her arms was more important than her bone deep exhaustion or the glaring absence of anyone else in the small room.

Sally looked at her little child – her small daughter – looking so much like her father even after birth, and felt a kind of love she had never felt before, and was convinced she would never feel again after this.

''Your name shall be Rhea Jackson, my precious little bundle of joy. Named after your grandmother. Hopefully this name shall keep you safe.''

Sally Jackson smiled gently – and swore to herself that she would protect this little life – no matter what would happen.

Clear-sighted as she was, Sally Jackson could not perceive the small strand connecting this small life to another one; miles and miles away, far beneath the ocean.

Only a single eye observed this phenomenon – and the owner smiled in satisfaction.

On this day, it would begin.

* * *

She remembers the summer of her first year of primary school; the way the sun was boring down on the earth relentlessly – her mother smiling as she remarks on this with childish glee.

She remembers her eighth birthday, as that man walks out of their lives – eyes cold and dismissive, not even pausing to say goodbye.

She remembers being ten, being fifteen and eighteen. She remembers the way nothing and yet everything changed – as her mother drowned herself in alcohol and suddenly she had another's life to manage.

She remembers being twenty, her cell phone cold against the shell of her ear as she hears the words depriving her of her last parent. She remembers feeling torn between sadness and relief at her mothers passing.

She remembers living.

She remembers _dying_.

A dark truck driving too fast on a dark night, the way everything had stopped for that small moment as she sailed through the air only for the ground to suddenly approach too fast.

Darkness had followed. A comfortable silence and peace, until light had broken that shelter – and forcefully catapulted her back into awareness.

She felt the cold around her body, the way everything felt strange and too out of place.

Finally, she heard a piercing wail.

* * *

The sustenance flowing down her throat is a welcome relief.

Her hunger is impossible to ignore, same with every other instinct. Her body desires what it needs, and denying her small body anything is a lost cause.

Days have passed, and she is still drowning in confusion. Her consciousness is fuzzy and weak, her thoughts sluggish as they stray and end in nothingness.

She is too small to see properly, the shapes blurry and undefined – but she knows of her mother.

Sally Jackson, she has heard when her mother had opened the front door once. Rhea, her mother called her with a gentle voice.

She gurgles contently as her mother wipes the milk stains off her face – burying her face in her mother's clothes.

Rhea is a happy child.

She cries when she needs to, and is content with the world around her otherwise. She plays with the toys, and sleeps in her crib and lives her life.

The more days passed, the less Rhea thought about the how's and why's and befores. Her life is a happy one, and time can heal all wounds.

She does not think that anything will change, nor does she wish for it.

* * *

He could feel it forming.

A small connection he had felt hundreds of times before. Between his domain and a new small life sired by him.

Poseidon only spared a few moments of thought to his previous lover, and new child – before his attention was caught by one of the generals under his command.

He had more important things to worry about.

Over the next few weeks, even months the god ignored that small tugging somewhere deep inside of him. He had never paid much attention to his demi-god children before – and he had no intention of starting now when he was not actually allowed to have any in the first place.

But it wouldn't leave him alone – this small tug towards the particular direction. An annoyed frown marred Poseidon's face as he finally gave into that strange sensation, so unlike any connection that had formed before.

He had nothing better to do anyways. He might as well take a look at his new son.

Dissolving into his domain, The Storm bringer materialized in the entrance hall of Sally's small apartment, instantly sensing two life forms close by, both deeply asleep.

Opening the door to the room where he felt a hint of his domain, Poseidon stepped into the small slightly cluttered room and instantly halted in his steps.

Poseidon knew Sally. Heard her say laughingly a few times before that no matter the child's father – she would make sure that in case they had a daughter, she would make sure half the clothes and toys would be in rose, and not only sea-green or blue. Poseidon had only smiled at her in tolerant amusement, not taking the words seriously – because he _never_ had any daughters.

After thousands of years Poseidon had accepted this fact. Accepted that this small secret wish of his would never come to pass.

''The Fates must be laughing at me.'' The Earth shaker murmured drily, as he closed the door behind him – approaching the small life that had been the origin of that small tug he had felt since months ago.

Instead of indifference, a hint of expectant joy actually filled his eyes for once – and Poseidon leaned over the small crib and watched as his daughter slumbered peacefully swaddled in plush toys.

A hint of a smile crept over his lips, and before he knew what he was doing, his hands had already reached downwards to pick up this small life.

His movements, normally precise and fluid were slightly awkward – the god unaccustomed to holding a small child in his arms.

Perhaps that's why the previously closed eyes opened sleepily – Poseidon soon enough staring at eyes clearly mirroring his own and for a single impossible moment the god felt like everything had stopped, like the constant rotation of the very planet had halted.

The tug inside of him had become nearly painful, intensifying at a terrifying rate – and yet he could do naught but watch the small being suddenly cradled so very carefully in his arms.

''Hello.'' Poseidon breathed almost reverently, not even noticing how gentle his voice had become – the change as natural as breathing.

Rhea had never felt like this before. Even though she didn't know this stranger who had suddenly woken her up in the middle of the night – she couldn't break this moment, didn't want to leave those arms.

She could somehow feel it, power, thrumming in the air, nearly crackling around him. It felt like a thousand storms, the deepest depth of the ocean, a crushing force that could eradicate everything that stood in its way. Rhea felt drawn to it, wanted to be as close to that man as possible, to feel that power encase her body in a tight hold.

Then the stranger spoke again in his rumbling voice, and the moment was broken.

''I am Poseidon – your father.''

Father? She barely remembered the father in her previous life, only those cold dismissive eyes – and she had always thought to not have one in her new one.

But somehow the resentment wouldn't come. She felt so very comfortable with that heartbeat thundering close to her small ear, safe with his arms around her.

The power she could feel cursing and clashing through his body was utterly and totally soothing to her. She felt loved, protected, like nothing would ever hurt her while she was in that man's grasp. For someone like her who was always relied on in her old life; this complete feeling of security was new, it was exhilarating. She _wante_ d it.

She yearned for this man who had only after months suddenly appeared in her life.

But it felt natural, like this was how it was meant to be. Her worries, her anxiety and her confusion vanished like they had never existed in the first place.

The man – Poseidon – carefully shifted her small body, his free hand tracing lines on her face with his thumb.

It felt rough against her sensitive baby skin, the feeling unexpectedly pleasant – and when the thumb wandered closer to her ear, Rhea couldn't suppress the small shriek of tinkling baby laughter, the way her face stretched into an adorable grin.

Poseidon's chuckled in apparent amusement, his face close enough to be seen even with her not yet fully developed eyes.

''My little princess.'' His smile was gentle. Every syllable filled with the most affectionate love – and Rhea was transfixed by the way his eyes nearly glowed.

Her father's body temperature was hot, his voice soothing – and as he carefully began to rock her, Rhea knew that resisting was a lost cause.

Rhea's eyes slowly fell shut, her body not listening to her commands – as the smell of the ocean filled her nostrils and thrumming warmth encased her.

She fell back asleep only moments after.

Poseidon didn't want to leave. The little life in his hand was still so every fragile, easily crushed if he used just the slightest bit of strength, and the god wondered how mortal babies could even survive those first years.

It filled him with abject unease, the thought of how easily this small fragile life in his hands could be snuffed out. Those feelings gnawing at him were unfamiliar, their intensity different than anything he had ever felt before.

His mouth moved before he could control himself.

''I will protect you.'' His proclamation felt strange on his tongue, the words unfamiliar – but he couldn't regret them.

He wished to protect – to shield – this life from all harm, and the consequences would have to take a back-seat on his mind for this precious almost endless moment. Still, something inside of him had settled down as that resolution formed – Poseidon feeling a strange kind of warmth blooming in his heart.

''Is this the emotion called love, I wonder?''

His words echoed in the small cluttered room, echoing almost hauntingly – but the otherwise empty room wouldn't give him an answer. But then again, Poseidon hadn't expected one.

His movements were gentle as he lowered his daughter into her crib, running his thumb once more over her smooth face almost reverently – before he dissolved into water, leaving only the faint smell of the ocean behind.

* * *

A/N First chapter is finished. This story is a rewrite of my story Princess of the Sea, so for those of you who know that story, favorite or follow and enjoy the hopefully much improved version!

Reviews are always appreciated.

C'ya soon!

AriesOrion


	2. Chapter 2 - Identity

_Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson or any of the characters, except for my OC Rhea Jackson_

* * *

Summary:

Rhea Jackson was born into this world, memory fuzzy and body weak; her life connected to one being miles beneath the surface of the ocean. Poseidon is a selfish god with the world at his fingertips and an ocean of blood beneath his feet. Yet, one look into his daughters eyes mirroring his own, and he's irrevocably lost. Self-Insert

* * *

 _Previous chapter:_

 _He wished to protect – to shield – this life from all harm, and the consequences would have to take a back-seat in his mind for this precious almost endless moment. Still, something inside of him had settled down as that resolution formed – Poseidon feeling a strange kind of warmth blooming in his heart._

 _''_ _Is this the emotion called love, I wonder?''_

 _His words echoed in the small cluttered room, echoing almost hauntingly – but the otherwise empty room wouldn't give him an answer. But then again, Poseidon hadn't expected one._

 _His movements were gentle as he lowered his daughter into her crib, running his thumb once more over her smooth face almost reverently – before he dissolved into water, leaving only the faint smell of the ocean behind._

* * *

Chapter 2 - Identity

* * *

The water splashed against the rims of the tub in small waves, a tiny hand happily smacking the surface; curious eyes watching the emerging ripples.

Rhea loved bath time.

After months of living as Sally Jackson's child – as Rhea – she had long since given up on her previous identity. Rhea loathed getting her diapers changed, was indifferent towards the baby milk and outings outside, and absolutely loved bath time.

She had long since stopped caring about her mental age when her instincts demanded anything, and Sally Jackson had become her most important person. Comparing Sally Jackson who looked at her like she was a precious treasure to her previous mother, who had drunk herself into death, was almost impossible.

Her father – Rhea didn't know what to make of Poseidon, who only visited her at night and whose presence was always so very fleeting. Her mind rebelled against letting him into her heart when she didn't truly know him, flashes of dismissive eyes colouring her days. But her heart – her instincts – demanded to grab him tightly and never let go.

Furrowing her small brows in an unknowing imitation of Poseidon, Rhea smacked her palm against the surface harder in aggravation, crying out pitifully when her blue rubber duck floated towards the end of the tub.

Pouting when her mother didn't magically appear through the door, Rhea tried to lean forward in order to return the duck to its rightful place at her side, when her small body protested the harsh treatment, pitching forward into the water.

Shock spread through Rhea as her head was suddenly submerged under water, her face stinging something fierce – perhaps that's why she didn't prevent her small body from instinctively trying to pump oxygen into her lungs.

Rhea was not prepared for such a thing to actually happen, her lungs filling with oxygen comfortably as her head was still _firmly_ _under water_.

Familiar hands suddenly wound themselves around her waist, her mother's worried face soon enough entering her vision – but Rhea was still too much in shock to let out the piercing wail this situation demanded from her.

Sally quickly wound a towel around Rhea's small form, rocking her soothingly – but the panic she expected never appeared on her mother's face.

Instead a wide smile stretched over her face as she murmured almost joyously. ''Already inheriting your powers from your father, hm? I hope they will protect you, little sea princess.''

This time, Rhea couldn't suppress the piercing wail escaping her mouth, as suddenly her fathers' strange name made so much more sense.

Poseidon – Greek God of the Sea.

She was the daughter of a Greek god.

* * *

Rhea was awoken by the familiar weight of hands lifting her from her crib, warmth replacing the small flicker of cold air almost immediately.

Her father – Poseidon, the Greek god – smiled at her with a gentle look in his eyes firmly opposed to everything she had ever heard about gods in her previous life, and Rhea couldn't suppress her answering happy gurgle.

No matter how her father might be otherwise, Rhea still craved those stolen moments when she first awoke and was surrounded by her father's presence. Even her mind could not protest too harshly, for her father had visited her faithfully and regularly for all he was otherwise a glaring absence in her daily life.

''Hey, little one.'' Poseidon shushed her softly, rocking her gently as he advanced towards the old rickety rocking chair gathering dust in the corner, flopping down on the hard surface in one fluid movement.

The movement, regardless of how carefully done was jarring though, her mouth suddenly reminding her of the first teeth boring itself through her gums with fierceness.

Rhea couldn't prevent herself from tearing up as the stinging increased in intensity. Soft hiccups escaped her mouth, as a solitary tear rolled down her cheek.

''What's wrong, princess?'' Poseidon instantly panicked, his thoughts racing in an uncontrollable manner as his whole undivided focus was suddenly on the small life in his arms.

Rhea hiccupped again, her hand wandering to her mouth in order to relieve some of the pain. It was slightly mortifying for Rhea to cry so easily, but her body was weak and sensitive to the teeth boring through her tender flesh.

''Does it hurt there?'' Following the small abrupt movement Poseidon instantly picked up on the source of her current agony, his thumb brushing over her mouth and a prickling feeling of coldness spread towards the inflamed area.

Rhea gurgled happily, the pain forgotten as a sort of rumble like sound emanated from her father's throat, and Rhea was transfixed.

It was a soothing, comforting sound – and Rhea stared in fascination at the area where it had originated from.

Poseidon chuckled at her intent – and so much more adorable for it – look, his smirk torn between mischievousness and openly doting. ''You enjoy that?''

Naturally, his daughter did not answer.

Still, the god hummed happily – the, for a human, unnatural sound soon enough spreading through the room, a sort of rumbling lull – and Rhea's eyes closed soon after, her body demanding that she return to sleep.

Poseidon did not vacate the chair for a long time, hours passing in a heartbeat – as his mind raced through the possible futures the existence of his daughter could cause.

The Ancient Laws forbade a god from having contact with their children before they entered Camp Half-Blood and then it was expected for the following contact to be minimal. Zeus took such laws very seriously, and Poseidon had never been overly bothered by that.

Why would he? He had always been indifferent towards his demi-god children; and it wasn't like he had expected that to change.

Rhea was an unexpected surprise. A joyful one to be sure, but still out of his expectations.

Poseidon wanted to take her away. Raise her in Atlantis, and never let go. Zeus would not have to know until she was grown, and past the age of the Prophecy.

A futile hope, Poseidon realized. His instincts were tingling, his power flickering with faint unease whenever he pursued that avenue in his thought, and he knew better than to tempt the Fates. Instead, there was something inside his mind whispering to leave soon. To avoid letting his daughter truly get attached without being able to honour such commitment.

This situation had too many traces of the Fates involvement than the Lord of the Sea was strictly comfortable with. The Fates were feared with good reason, their meddling usually ending in tragedy.

Poseidon wouldn't subject Rhea to such a half-life.

''How difficult you have made my life…'' Poseidon murmured into the empty room, his daughter's even breaths strangely comforting.

His previously gentle eyes suddenly hardened, a steely glint entering their depth as miles away the ocean suddenly began to churn.

''I shall obey the call.'' The Lord of Atlantis rumbled almost threateningly into the air. ''But bear in mind, Fates, that this child will not be lost to me for long. If this child stands in harm's way, I shall act.

So bear that in mind when you are telling me to let fate run its course.''

The wind outside the building picked up speed, a small flicker of something that could be constituted as agreement flickering across his senses, and Poseidon closed his eyes in resignation.

Good things never lasted long, and it was almost time to leave.

* * *

Atlantis was the centre of Poseidon's domain. Built in times long past, the sprawling palaces on the bottom of the ocean had always been a source of pride for the King of Atlantis.

They were magnificent; their style firmly reminding him of Ancient Greece – and it always caused his temper to calm once he saw his seat of power.

The god of the sea lay sprawled on his throne, the casual pose belied by the frown contorting his face, the way his eyes were narrowed and nearly black. His subjects were wisely careful to leave their liege in peace, no one willing to provoke their lord's temper.

Triton – heir to the throne – entered the suspiciously empty throne room, a smaller replica of his father's symbol of power clutched in his hand, upper body clad in tightly fitting gleaming silver armour.

Though he was not immune to his father's temper, he still had far more leeway than all others did. And Triton was _curious_. Poseidon's mood had been odd during the last few months, springing from one extreme to the other – and the brief flashes of contentment had caused something heavy to settle in his stomach.

''Father.'' Triton greeted Poseidon with a short bow, resisting the urge to fidget when Poseidon glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Triton's tails were twitching in response to the dark look, and suddenly he was less sure about this particular course of action.

Then, Poseidon withdrew his attention, his gaze once again returning upwards in Rhea's direction. He could feel her existence, as fleeting as the flap of a butterfly's wing. The god was afraid that something would simply extinguish her brittle life if he was not paying attention for a single moment. Rhea was so very fragile after all.

''What is it, Triton?'' Poseidon's voice eventually rumbled through the throne room.

Triton straightened to attention. ''I have returned from my patrol. We could not discover anything amiss.'' This time Triton did fidget when he saw his lord and father's raised eyebrow, as if asking what he was doing here disturbing him when there was nothing to report.

''Is there anything I can help you with, father?'' Triton finally asked.

The look he received in response made him nearly recoil. It was a searching gaze, as if Poseidon was evaluating whether Triton could be trusted, seeing through all falsehoods and deception. It seemed to bore through him like a sharp blade, tearing him apart from the inside.

''Fa…ther?'' The minor sea god managed to murmur in a daze.

Finally the Lord of the Sea's eyes lost their sharpness, softening slightly as if finding Triton loyal enough, trustworthy enough to share this burden with.

No matter how young and foolish it seemed, it made something inside Triton soar, to know that his father acknowledged him like this.

Poseidon might not love him like Triton had often wished during his childhood so many years ago, but he trusted him, appreciated him – and that was enough.

Approaching the throne even further, the son of Poseidon halted at a respectful distance from his father, before his tails morphed into legs smoothly and he lowered himself on one knee, his gaze settled on the floor.

It made it abundantly clear that his loyalty would always be with his sire, and he felt the pleased thrum of the water around him at his show of submission.

The sea around them seemed to spiral around them, nearly solidifying and Triton knew that whatever his father was about to tell him was _important_. Valuable enough to warrant such heavy security measures.

There was a moment of silence before Poseidon regarded his kneeling son and heir and opened his mouth.

His voice seemed to echo even underwater, as words were spoken that Triton thought he would never hear. A single sentence that would change life as he knew it, because Triton knew his sire well enough to recognize the emotions present in those words.

The rare softness coupled with dark undercurrents of possessiveness all rolled into a lulling sharpness that dared Triton to make a single move against his evident will.

''I have a daughter. And you, my heir, have a little sister.''

* * *

The small room was thoroughly familiar to him by now.

The fresh paint on the walls, the wooden shelves and small wardrobe, the small rickety chair in the corner he was rather fond of using.

It all paints a familiar picture to his eyes.

Poseidon leaned over the small crib, his daughter slumbering peacefully, a small dolphin clutched in her arms.

It was a peaceful sight that made something painful and bitter settle heavily somewhere inside of him. Poseidon hesitantly raised his hand to touch the space over his heart, a bewildered look entering the vibrant orbs at the unfamiliar feeling.

The sea god instantly decided that he quite loathed this particular emotion.

Reaching downwards, Poseidon lifted his daughter to cradle her carefully against his chest, her soft breaths the only sound in the room, and it instantly soothed the raw feelings clawing roughly at his heart.

For the last time. This thought was accompanied yet again by this new uncomfortably heavy feeling, and Poseidon furrowed his brows in annoyance. Those new emotions he was experiencing were bothersome indeed. But he could not regret their existence, for it would mean regretting Rhea's existence.

And he could not do that.

There was something inherently warm about his daughter. This warmth would burrow inside his heart whenever he was close, and when he held this precious little bundle in his arms, he felt like his ichor was on fire. Poseidon could finally understand what the mortals must feel when they spoke about addictions. Even though the god knew that every visit made him love this little child even more, he could not bear to stay away.

The discussion with Triton after he informed him about their new addition to the family helped him make the decision. As an elder god, Poseidon was powerful enough to sense the vague machinations of the Fates, and he could feel that the Fates merely wished for him to avoid being physically present, but Poseidon was an elder god and as such had ways around such _limitations_.

He would simply have to owe a favour to Morpheus. A simple solution to a delicate problem.

Poseidon hesitated briefly, before resisting the urge to repeat his customary actions of simply holding his daughter before lulling her back to sleep whenever she woke.

It wasn't enough. Not now, when he was physically present for the last time in what seemed to be an eternity and beyond.

Eying the old carpet with some doubt – because Gods normally did not sit on the floor – Poseidon as carefully as he could, lowered himself to the floor. The carpet was faded and worn-out, and the Greek god peered doubtfully at the little creature slumbering in his arms. The god knew that mortals got sick quite often, and Poseidon could practically feel how dirty this carpet was.

His doubt came back with sudden vengeance. How could he leave his daughter when so many things had the potential to end her precious life?

Sighing when he realized how ridiculous he was being, he shifted his attention back to his slumbering princess.

He was reluctant to disturb her sleep, especially when he saw her face tucked against his chest, and it caused another spike of addicting warmth to flood through his veins.

''Wake up for daddy, princess.'' Poseidon rumbled into his daughters little ear, an amused little smile on his face when his daughter simply frowned in annoyance before continuing her peaceful slumber.

Stroking his finger along her rounded jaw line, Poseidon kept murmuring into Rhea's ear, eyes softening even further when her eyes slid open slightly, a yawn following her forced awakening.

''Hey, little one.'' Poseidon pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Melting to a puddle of goo all over again, when small hands fisted his shirt over his heart, and sleepy eyes clashed with his own.

His little daughter was just so very precious.

''Daddy's here…'' He continued his senseless murmurings, all too aware that his little daughter enjoyed the sound of his voice.

''Da…'' Rhea gurgled happily, and Poseidon fell in love with his daughter all over again.

Poseidon suppressed the urge to spirit her away to his domain. It wasn't meant to happen. ''Da-ddy.'' He repeated instead, making sure to pronounce the word slowly.

''Da…da…'' Rhea babbled happily, eyes narrowed as if concentrating hard on something – and it filled Poseidon with the same uncomfortable feeling as before.

Yet, Poseidon's smile was lopsided and genuine – feeling so much warmth simultaneously that he feared he might burn with the intensity of it all.

Then Rhea looked around curiously, and the spell was broken, but Poseidon could not forget what he was leaving behind.

''Please, do not despise me when we see each other next.'' The god whispered against Rhea's midnight black hair, feeling a rush of sudden desperation at the thought that this child would one day resent him as did the other demi-gods with their godly parents. ''I wish I could stay. Or at least take you with me, but the Fates will not allow it. Your path is not mine to decide, no matter how much I wish I could just raise you by my side and protect you from the world.''

Rhea peered at her father, sensing the uncontrollable emotions fuelling this outburst, and remained uncommonly quiet.

''But never doubt that I love you. Adore you with everything that I am, that I shall watch over you and protect you always.

Daddy's watching over you, princess.''

Poseidon was watching her with heartbreakingly gentle eyes, and it caused tears to well up in Rhea's eyes. It was a good-bye, and it caused something painful to spread inside of her – a pained whimper escaping the confines of her mouth.

''Dada….Dada…'' Rhea babbled, this time with sudden desperation, horrified to realize that this could be the last time she would see her father in many years.

Poseidon hushed her gently, and it astonished her that how quickly it caused her to cease crying. Smelling the familiar scent of the ocean, sand and the musky hint of fresh air after a sudden rain shower, as Rhea was pressed against a broad chest, made her return to that drowsy warmth she had felt before panicking.

''Thank you, Rhea…'' Poseidon pressed a kiss against her cheek, Rhea startled to realize that her father's eyes were red-rimmed. ''Thank you, my child, for allowing me to love you. And I'm so endlessly sorry for having to leave. I will hide you from the view of other immortals and monsters. At least then you will have a normal childhood without any fear of monsters.''

Then Poseidon loosed his tight hold, and smiled, before setting his daughter on the carpet, a few of her toys appearing all around them.

''No more tears now…'' The Stormbringer chided gently, taking a small wooden block and placing in before his daughter, receiving a wide-eyed look in response. Taking a hold of another small block, Poseidon placed it carefully on top of the first one, before musing idly.

''Come to think of it, I've never told you about your elder brother, have I?'

Poseidon smiled as he watched his daughter haltingly grab the block laying before her, ever so carefully placing it one top of the other two stacked ones with narrowed eyes. He was determined to make this single last night count. Just him and his precious little daughter, without sleep or distractions, a stack of toys and countless stories to tell – to burn one irreplaceably precious night into his memory.

It would have to be enough.

It had to be.

* * *

A/N Chapter 2 finished! To answer a few questions that came up… No, Princess of the Sea is not being abandoned! I will write both stories simultaneously. I just felt that could do this story more justice if I write another version, but Princess of the Sea is my first story, my baby, and I'll never abandon it.

Hope you liked it, if there are any suggestions, ideas or questions, feel free to PM me!

C'ya soon,

AriesOrion


	3. Chapter 3 - Dreams

Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson or any of the characters.

* * *

Summary:

Rhea Jackson was born into this world, memory fuzzy and body weak; her life connected to one being miles beneath the surface of the ocean. Poseidon is a selfish god with the world at his fingertips and an ocean of blood beneath his feet. Yet, one look into his daughters eyes mirroring his own, and he's irrevocably lost. Self-Insert

* * *

 _Previous chapter:_

 _''_ _No more tears now…'' The Stormbringer stated gently, taking a small wooden block and placing in before his daughter, receiving a wide-eyed look in response. Taking a hold of another small block, Poseidon placed it carefully on top of the first one, before musing idly._

 _''_ _Come to think of it, I've never told you about your elder brother, have I?'_

 _Poseidon smiled as he watched his daughter haltingly grab another block, ever so carefully placing it one top of the other two stacked ones with narrowed eyes. He was determined to make this single last night count. Just him and his precious little daughter, without sleep or distractions, a stack of toys and countless stories to tell – to burn one irreplaceably precious night into his memory._

 _It would have to be enough._

 _It had to be._

* * *

Chapter 3 – Dreams

* * *

''Mum…'' A sleepy voice complained quietly, muffled against a large pillow – sea green eyes stared accusingly at the smiling visage of a beautiful brown haired woman.

Sally Jackson smiled teasingly at her small daughter, her eyes full of quiet joy. The last years of her life had not been easy, but they had been happy ones. Her daughter was four already, already a small child instead of the baby she first held in her exhausted arms.

And Sally could not be any prouder. Rhea was such a sweet child, eager to please and yet strangely independent for all their closeness. Sally had never regretted her decision to keep and raise Poseidon's child by herself when Rhea made her life so much more joyful.

''It's time to get up, sweetie. Today is your first day at your new kindergarten.'' Sally gently ran her hand through her daughters black hair – so much like her father's that even after years it still made her breath catch in her throat.

Rhea grumbled sleepily, but did as her mother asked – shivering slightly when she had to leave the small separate, but most importantly warm world under her blanket.

She got dressed mainly on autopilot, her mind still fuzzy and half-asleep. It was in precisely those moments, when she just entered the world of the waking that she was reminded of the god that was her father the most.

When she was still nothing more than a baby, his face was often what greeted her when she was rudely woken from her sleep in the middle of the night, and she missed those moments somewhat fierce. Rhea hadn't seen her father, not since that one night where Poseidon stayed for the whole night.

Rhea could still hear the words spoken as if they reverberated in her mind, piercing and lasting. The scene burned into her eyes, as if trying to make sure she could never forget.

Rhea hadn't seen a hint of her father since that night.

Instead she started dreaming. Of sand beneath her body, waves churning in the distance, faint murmurs carried by the wind – and an ever present shadow watching over her.

Sometimes she thought her father was behind those dreams, his eyes vivid and lifelike as they flashed through the hazy surroundings. Then reality set in and she wondered if it merely was wishful thinking, especially when her mother told her another bedtime story about Greek Mythology.

Life had been normal. Nothing unusual happening beyond the dreams and the realization that monsters she had before only heard about in legends and her mother's bed-time stories were far more present than she might have imagined, their presence obvious whenever she spent a considerable amount of time outside their small apartment.

But they never seemed to notice her, their senses seemingly sliding over her as if she was made out of thin air, so she had never bothered alerting her mother. Her father had promised her a normal childhood after all, and she trusted him implicitly.

Poseidon would never lie to her, and it was the only reason she was not more disquieted by the years she hadn't seen him.

Grabbing a small jeans jacket, Rhea stumbled out of her room sleepily, the smell of pancakes already spreading through the small apartment, leading her straight to the kitchen where her mother was expertly flipping around another golden piece of deliciousness.

''Pancakes?'' Rhea questioned happily, eying the plate sitting on the small table with a longing gaze.

Her mother seemed to have a sixth sense, tilting her head sideways to smile at her with laughing eyes. ''You can start already, sweetie. You look like you're about to devour your pancake with your eyes.''

Rhea turned hopped onto the chair with a small blush on her face, thanking every known deity for letting her have a mother as great and kind as Sally Jackson. Her mother who seemed so content with her existence alone that all other matters seemed to fade into the background. To Sally, Rhea might as well be her entire world, and it always made her love her mother a little more.

Breakfast usually was a quiet time in their household, Rhea not being a morning person in the slightest. But they always sat down at the same table, her mother's hand gentle as she carded through her hair, and it made this routine a precious moment in their lives.

Rhea had not realized that she missed those simple things before experiencing them once again during this lifetime.

Life was good, regardless of Poseidon's missing presence – and Rhea was content.

Now she only had to survive the hell that was kindergarten with her mind and dignity intact. Again.

* * *

Miss Nelson was a stern middle-aged lady with an aching hipbone, slightly greying hair and an austere manner that was difficult to imitate.

She was also the supervisor of the kindergarten group Rhea would be attending starting today.

Rhea was an easy child. She did not trouble the workers, but otherwise did all that was expected from a child her respective age. That was how it had been until now, from the crèche to her first kindergarten. Truthfully, Rhea hadn't expected that to change.

She was after all much more mature than normal children, even if her memories had gotten progressively fuzzier over the years. It would be ridiculous of her to add to the pains to the already overworked staff.

Rhea normally was a very well-behaved child. But when the slight smile on Miss Nelsons face disappeared as soon as Sally Jackson had kissed her good-bye and stepped into their old car, and the stern woman's eyes landed on her disapprovingly even though Rhea had been perfectly polite for all the five minutes they had known each other, the daughter of Poseidon tensed unconsciously.

''I will be frank with you, child.'' She sniffed haughtily, looking down on her like she was something disgusting to be scrapped off one's shoe. ''I do not tolerate bastard children like you ruining this place's good reputation. So try to avoid behaving like the cretin I know you are. Follow me, then.''

With that, she walked into the kindergarten, leaving Rhea staring at her wide-eyed, unconsciously following the woman inside. The daughter of Poseidon felt like something disgusting had crawled into her mouth, as she was barely able to avoid vocalizing her disbelief. Other children might not have understood her, but Rhea did. Perfectly and with great clarity.

It made something bitter settle in her, to realize that this woman had managed to hit her sore point by accident. Rhea was a bastard child of a married man – _god_. Who had left, even if not by choice, and it _stung_.

Walking through those corridors, the sound of children talking and laughing somewhere else Rhea felt tears brimming in her eyes, reading to roll down, and announce her pain to the whole world. She missed her father. Poseidon who would have torn apart this ridiculous woman who was allowed to care for impressionable children, for daring to insult her like this – and this thought ignited something hot and burning inside of her.

How dare this _woman_ -

This _prejudiced, incompetent woman_ actually take out her prejudice on small children. How dare she insult her like this when Rhea had done nothing – absolutely nothing – to deserve such treatment?

The brimming tears were replaced by hot and boiling fury, her eyes briefly glowing an unearthly sea-green , a wave roaring inside her head as a water pipe placed close to the ceiling suddenly burst apart, water drenching the woman in front of Rhea in seconds.

As Miss Nelson kept screeching in shock, the sound of voices getting closer and closer – Rhea watched on in amusement.

She didn't think she would be returning to this kindergarten anytime soon.

* * *

As it turned out, Rhea contrary to her expectations returned to the same kindergarten three days later. Miss Nelson on the other hand was discharged within a day of her arrival at the hospital. Screaming that this new bastard child was responsible for this was apparently not something a child caretaker should be doing.

It made Rhea's week.

Her mother had been horrified when she heard about Miss Nelson, and after one extremely uncomfortable conversation where Sally had dragged out of her what happened word by word, her mother had practically stormed into the kindergarten to speak to the deputy in righteous fury, which had only subsided once it was proven that the staff did not know about Miss Nelson's prejudiced and wrong behaviour.

It also caused Rhea to have a healthy respect for her mother. Making Sally Jackson angry was not something anyone should be doing.

Her second introduction to the kindergarten happened without a hitch. The rest of the staff were properly horrified, the children clueless and Rhea joined the Sun Park kindergarten in the summer months of her fifth year of life.

Life continued without any more incidents, Rhea passing her days contently; weeks turning into month, and the kindergarten turning into primary school – so it came as a surprise that on a cold November night her life changed completely once again.

Dreams were a constant for Rhea. They had happened for years now, night after night and year after year. Rhea knew no nightmares, no random vague dreams she remembered from her first life. Instead all she ever dreamed about were impressions; of laying on soft sand, the ocean so close she could swear its waves were curling around her comfortingly.

The November when she was six years old was a cold month, snow piling up outside, the ground frozen due to the unrelenting cold temperatures battering New York, and its surroundings. It was also the first time Rhea could remember being seriously sick. She didn't know whether it was a perk of being the daughter of a Greek god, or if her immune system was simply strong, but apart from some sniffles and the occasional headache or stomach ache, Rhea couldn't remember ever being seriously sick, even when she was a baby.

She had forgotten how bad it felt when one's body seemed to fail. The way the limbs seemed to be far heavier than possible, the sweat dotting the forehead while shivers wreaked her small body.

Rhea eyed her mother out of her half-lidded for once dull eyes, seeing the creases of worry her mother could not hide as she eyed the clinical thermometer in her hand one more time.

''Your fever has risen again.'' Sally sighed, perched on the edge of her small bed. ''If it hasn't gone down by tomorrow, we will have to go to the doctor.''

''Th-that bad?'' Rhea croaked out, her throat sore and burning. She felt too hot and too cold, something inside her head trying to claw to the surface, unheeding of the pain it caused.

Her mother gently wiped away her sweaty forehead with a pleasantly cool rag, and Rhea closed her eyes in relief.

''You have a very high fever, sweetie. But a night of sleep will do wonders.''

Sally did not voice the thought that her sickness could always be divine in nature, and Rhea didn't begrudge her for it. The fact that Poseidon was her father was something her mother had never told her, and was not aware that she knew.

It was simply easier that way.

Feeling the slight cold pressure against her lips, Rhea obediently opened her mouth as a sticky fluid was shoved gently into her mouth together with a spoon – and the daughter of Poseidon swallowed the medicine without fuss.

Minutes later, a wave of sleepiness hit her, and she was dozing off only moments later.

* * *

Dreams were normal - a constant that nearly every mortal experienced once upon a time and Rhea was certainly no different. A convenient quirk of the human existence that Poseidon was powerful and more importantly _desperate_ enough to use.

What did it matter that they were not his domain? A quick hidden conversation between Morpheus and Triton – two minor gods not in the sights of the rest of the Olympian council – and Poseidon did not need to worry about the minor god being bothered about Poseidon intruding in his domain so many times even if just peripherally.

Poseidon had promised to avoid interacting physically with his daughter, but such a glaring loophole? It had been begging to be exploited. But Poseidon quickly came to the painful conclusion that he couldn't actually _interact_ with his daughter. He didn't need the Fates warning to know that it couldn't happen. A toddler or small child was too young to understand the need for secrecy even from Sally. The path the three Fates wanted his daughter to walk down; Poseidon was still ignorant of, even if he could see the machinations and the manipulations for what they were.

It was torture. To sense his daughters' presence so close and yet so far – and do nothing but observe. Such sweet, _gloriously sweet_ torture.

Years had passed since that night, and Poseidon was falling apart at his seams. Knowing his daughter was happy and safe alleviated the emptiness in his heart, but it was always accompanied by this bitter feeling whenever he had to watch as she touched and smiled and interacted with everyone but him.

How many times did the sea churn with his raw emotions in the last few years? How many people had died from the rough sea and hurricanes he had summoned in his jealous anger?

To have felt that warmth in his heart, then to willingly abandon it, only to sense it every night just out of his reach – Poseidon had never felt this intense desperation. If the Earthshaker had not still felt the Fates presence, sensed that it was still not time for whatever those old cronies were waiting for – he would have long spirited away this precious little bundle of joy.

And once again, he felt his daughter slip into Morpheus domain, Poseidon sending out small tendrils of his power to intrude into her dreams. Another night of sweet torture trying his impeccable self-control.

It was immediately obvious that something was not entirely right. Poseidon had gotten used to creating a dreamscape – and if he used Montauk as a template where his little wonder was conceived, who could blame him? – same as he had ample practice pulling and moulding his daughter' mind into her current physical form.

This time though, his daughter was letting out pained whimpers as soon as she congealed in her own dreamscape, forehead matted with sweat and shivering uncontrollably.

It didn't take the god more than a fraction of a moment to form his conclusion. His daughter was plagued by sickness.

Poseidon was for the first time in many years utterly clueless. He – of course – knew of sickness, but as a god, what did he have to be concerned about? He had never needed to acquaint himself with human diseases, and observing his daughter who was clearly in pain while he didn't know how to alleviate it, made him feel all kinds of _wretched_.

So lost in contemplation, Poseidon didn't notice the way he approached closer than ever before, his representation – the ocean – climbing up the beach, submerging the sand beneath, seemingly trying to curl around the small form.

Another part of the dream however did, Rhea too lost in her fever to be cognisant of her actions, opened her eyelids, hazy eyes catching a glimpse of the ocean, and the way it seemed to approach ever closer.

''Da...'' A cough forced its way out of her throat, her head founding so fiercely, it consumed everything else but the water so very close to her. ''Da-ddy.''

Rhea was not aware of anything, but the achingly familiar presence seemingly hovering right next to her, before darkness was falling like a curtain around her.

Poseidon was jolted out of his thoughts by that weak voice, that single word seemingly echoing in the silence. It broke the last strands of his self-control, wreaked havoc in his mind – and made the last years of torture entirely worth it.

His human form haltingly stepped out of the ocean, ignoring the way his instincts were tingling warningly.

She was calling him.

His daughter needed him, had so keenly remembered his presence that she would call out for him when she was at her weakest, trusting him instinctively. His very attention was consumed by this girl shivering before him, enough not to notice the way his instincts were turning from alarm to gentle nudges of encouragement.

Kneeling next to her, Poseidon stretched out his hand to gentle stroke her still slightly chubby cheek. An echo of warmth spread from his fingertips to his heart where it seemingly pumped his burning blood through his body.

Poseidon closed his eyes, a mere echo of the warmth enough to briefly overwhelm him. Addicting, indeed. A dream could never project more than an echo, but for Poseidon it was enough to give relief to the small void inside his heart.

Rhea curled around his kneeling form unconsciously, her shivers already receding as tendrils of power gently encouraged her own innate powers to activate and begin the self-healing process. It was the only relief he could give her in the dream.

Poseidon was torn between the desire to wake her and interact with his daughter for the first time in years, and let her sleep through her sickness. He wondered how she would react to his presence; would she instinctively know who he was, or would she be scared of this stranger appearing in her dreams? Poseidon had watched his daughter often enough to know her personality, know how uncommonly mature she was, long and often enough to fall in love with this little being over and over and over again.

When he had observed the way the filthy thing in the kindergarten had insulted what was so far superior to it that its small brain could not possibly comprehend the distance between them, Poseidon wanted to rip it to pieces. His daughter's swift retribution had turned wrath to possessive pride, and allowed it to live a little longer.

That Poseidon was still contemplating the appropriate punishment for insulting his daughter was of no importance at all. Honestly.

Resolution formed, Poseidon lifted his daughter with infinite gentleness – cradling her like he wanted to shield her from the whole world, a pleased thrum leaving his throat when Rhea immediately relaxed in his hold, a contended sigh muffled against the conjunction between his shoulder and neck.

Concern winning over his selfish needs, the god simply watched – knowing that from tonight on, things would change.

The warnings he received from the Fates whenever he contemplated interacting with his daughter in her dreams was gone – and now that he had chosen to walk down this path there was no going back.

Rhea was his - and going back to the emptiness before was no longer an option.

* * *

A/N And done!

So now I'm going to alleviate some concerns that seemed to have cropped up. Princess of the Sea is NOT discontinued. I'll write both stories simultaneously.

Other than that, hope you liked the newest chapter!

C'ya soon,

AriesOrion


	4. Chapter 4 - Color

Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson or any of the characters.

* * *

Summary:

Rhea Jackson was born into this world, memory fuzzy and body weak; her life connected to one being miles beneath the surface of the ocean. Poseidon is a selfish god with the world at his fingertips and an ocean of blood beneath his feet. Yet, one look into his daughters eyes mirroring his own, and he's irrevocably lost.

* * *

 _Previous chapter:_

 _Resolution formed, Poseidon lifted his daughter with infinite gentleness – cradling her like he wanted to shield her from the whole world, a pleased thrum leaving his throat when Rhea immediately relaxed in his hold, a contended sigh muffled against the conjunction between his shoulder and neck._

 _Concern winning over his selfish needs, the god simply watched – knowing that from tonight on, things would change._

 _The warnings he received from the Fates whenever he contemplated interacting with his daughter in her dreams was gone – and now that he had chosen to walk down this path there was no going back._

 _Rhea was his - and going back to the emptiness before was no longer an option._

* * *

Chapter 3 - Color

* * *

There were smudges of color on her hands.

Rhea eyed them seemingly in a trance.

It was a lush green, akin to freshly grown leaves in spring that covered her thumb. Her palm was painted a bright sky blue.

Some parts were mixed together, forming turquoise pictures on her skin.

The wax colors were bright and beautiful – and all wrong.

His eyes were different. They were more vibrant than those streaks of color on the white paper before her. They had more depth, hadn't they?

Rhea was sure they did. Her father's eyes had been like the sea, beautiful beyond compare. She remembered that fact. Yet, when she tried to recall the exact contours of her father's face, she was failing. As if the knowledge had quietly slipped through her fingers with the passing of the years.

It had been fine until last week when she woke up from her deep sleep with her cold half gone, feeling as if the whole world had suddenly lost much of its brightness. Rhea could almost swear she had heard her father's voice in her dreams, the sound low and soothing.

She wanted to sleep in order to keep dreaming. She never wanted to sleep again in order to spare her the inevitable disappointment when she woke up, Poseidon as absent as before.

It hurt. It ached, a constant pain that never left her alone, causing tears to spill whenever she was alone.

"What are you attempting to draw, sweetie?" A voice shook Rhea out of her trance, and she looked up at her art teacher. Rhea was of the opinion that in primary school, the word art was vaguely misplaced – but it was still the favorite time in school where she could quietly grab supplies and try to force her limbs into obeying her well enough for the whole picture to not end in abject disaster.

It was diffcult for Rhea - who often felt so much _older_ \- to attend primary school.

Ms. Jennings was still young and full of motivation and energy, not having reached the point where she was already tired of the same year repeating itself over and over again. Rhea liked her enthusiasm – mostly.

"My…." my father's eyes, she wanted to scream. My father's eyes, my _father's_ … "…eyes."

Rhea wanted to scream as Ms. Jennings smiled at her encouragingly, the voice unbearably loud in her ears.

''Should I grab you a mirror, sweetie?"

Rhea didn't want a mirror. She wanted her father.

So she shook her head and smiled even when she wanted nothing more than to cry and never stop.

 _Dad, where are you?_

 _I want to see you._

* * *

The water beneath the surface was tranquil as Triton moved through the liquid effortlessly, his tails morphing into legs a second before his feet touched the pristine looking smooth stone serving as the ground of most buildings in Atlantis.

The minor god wasn't born yet when most of the palaces were built miles beneath the surface, but he had witnessed enough renovations to know that every wall and arch took years to carve by the most accomplished craftsmen of the sea dwellers.

Atlantis truly was the seat of one of the most powerful beings on this planet, and the thought always filled Triton with abject pride.

The hall was nearly absent of any life, only a few small fishes brave or not intelligent enough to avoid their lord's mood. It was not the first time, nor would it be the last. But Triton freely admitted that in the last few years – ever since his father sired a daughter – it had become almost common for his father to switch between one extreme to the next as if unable to help himself.

Only Triton was secure enough to present himself before his lord father during such a time.

Resisting the urge to commit such a mundane action as taking a deep fortifying breath – humans and their ideas, no matter how tempting – Triton willed the door at the end of the doorway to open.

With nary a sound, the stone doors opened slowly, the carvings on them as imposing as always.

A low clang echoed as the doors stopped shortly before falling onto the wall, Triton stepping into the large hall, hundreds of shelves full of paper from parchment to books greeting him silently; several shorter columns with Greek fire blazing on top them surrounding his father's personal library.

Knowing that his father only came here when wishing to remain undisturbed, Triton without delay turned towards the left side – seeing his father sprawled on a comfortable looking armchair, gaze directed towards the surface.

Triton did not need the gift of sight to know what his lord father was observing. It was surprisingly easy to not feel any resentment towards his… little sister. He was a grown god with responsibilities and duties, old enough to have fathered his own children during his long existence. He was not a child anymore – and while he may have wished for his father's love when he was still a young godling, this time was long past now.

He was a prince and warrior of Atlantis, trusted and valued by his sire, secure in his life and position as his father's heir – and it was enough. The emotion he witnessed whenever Poseidon spoke about his little sister, the love that would he suspected only ever be for that child – was enough to drown entire worlds.

It was not something he hoped to have directed at him, too used to his freedom to accept such a stifling emotion.

''Father.'' He greeted Poseidon, instead of getting lost in his thoughts.

Poseidon hummed in greeting, looking contemplative instead of annoyed or furious or anything even less pleasant. A good sign.

Not waiting for another sign of acknowledgement, Triton seated himself on anther armchair – his nerves making themselves known with vengeance.

''I have come to ask you for a favor, father.''

Triton felt more then saw the way Poseidon's attention was now focused on him. Calling upon his centuries of existence, Triton tried to find the courage for his mouth to spit out his request.

Just when he had finally managed to scrap together enough of his dignity, Poseidon interrupted his frantic thought process.

''A few nights ago, in her dream I held my daughter in my arms.''

Triton blinked at the admission. He was privy to his father's thoughts on the meddling of the Fates, and to disregard his intuition was not something Poseidon would do. Normally at least. But could this situation even be termed as such?

As if reading his thoughts – and Triton did not think this train of thought as far-fetched – his father raised an eyebrow at him, and the minor god promptly emptied his mind of his disrespectful thoughts.

''She was sick, barely conscious and probably more than a little confused – but she called me. Remembered me.''

Poseidon's tone more than showed how affected he was by this encounter. Triton could not recall his father being so conflicted about anything.

''But even though apparently I am being _allowed_ …'' Poseidon nearly snarled the last word, and Triton stopped breathing lest he set Poseidon off. He liked existing, thank you very much. ''…to contact my daughter in her dreams now, I still feel my instincts warning me from meeting her in reality.''

''…I hope she's doing better now.'' Triton managed to say very quietly, observing the way his father's eyes bled an angry abyss black.

Poseidon hummed noncommittally in response. His precious daughter had already healed from her sickness, what mortals named the cold not a match for the concentrated healing powers of a much beloved demigod, especially one that was encouraged by an elder god. The god had already procured a few more books on the topic from the surface, before he destroyed an island or two in his worry.

It was impossible for him to miss the drastic change in her behavior, the times when she would seemingly stare at nothing with such pain in her eyes, or when the tears would fall from her eyes and not stop.

How he wanted to enclose her in his arms, and shield her from the world.

It was not to be though. The Fates would not be denied. Poseidon knew he had to be patient. The Fates had already indirectly consented to allowing him to interact with his daughter in her dreams. It would have to be enough – for now.

Her suffering gave him hope as he had scarcely allowed himself to feel before.

If she was so pained, she had to consciously remember him, didn't she?

Now he only had to plan their first semi-conscious meeting and hope that his little daughter wouldn't crush his hope beneath her fragile feet.

"She will be better soon enough." Poseidon eventually answered, sight still concentrated on the small figure miles and miles away from him.

Watching the color spreading over her hands, the Stormbringer smiled. Full of teeth, and possessiveness and wild anticipation.

Not one word more was said during the day, as both gods directed their sight towards the continent, both distracted with different thoughts.

* * *

Rhea woke up with a start.

Completely awake from one moment to the next, heart pounding loudly in her small chest - her cheeks wet with tears.

Focusing on her ceiling, Rhea concentrated on breathing. It was still dark outside, the sun not having risen yet and Rhea already wanted this day to be over with. She thought it was ludicrous that she was already suffering from depression when she was not even in her teens, but she couldn't help herself.

Without conscious thought, Rhea slid down from her bed onto the cold ground, feet pattering over the surface towards the old door. It was practically ancient, the hinges slightly rusty - but she was familiar enough with it to open it silently. Her mother's small room was opposite hers and her hand was already stretched out, fingers curling around the doorhandle, when she suddenly stopped.

What was the point on continuing this action?

She knew that what she truly wanted wasn't behind this door. There was no second body sleeping beside her mother. The being whom she sought, he wasn't there, so what was the point?

The woman sleeping behind the door, Sally Jackson, was her sweet mother who worked tirelessly to afford this little apartment for the both of them. The person who would praise her achievements, and scold her when she did something wrong - and who had taken her as the center of her world. The mother who loved her unconditionally.

And Rhea was being horribly, terribly selfish - but she wanted her father.

Not her mother who still seemed so young, nervous and stressed so often - in mind even younger than Rhea herself was. Because while the memories had faded over the years, like a well-read book that was familiar, but where the details and feelings blurred into nothingness - she still felt older most of the time.

It had caused Rhea much grief over the last days, because she loved Sally Jackson. Her body folded into her mothers neatly when she hugged her, her heart steady and calm when she smelled her scent and...

Why was it not enough? Since when was this small world, consisting of both of them, not enough for her?

Perhaps, she considered bitterly, it had been the moment her father's arms wrapped around her for the first time, his presence protective and absolute, the millenia in his eyes as he rocked her back and forth.

Her arm dropped down powerlessly to her side - the guilt bitter and choking. Silently Rhea turned around - her own door closing behind her.

It was better this way. There was no need to worry her mother even further. Sally Jackson already had enough to deal with.

Grabbing her blanket, Rhea curled it around herself, before climbing onto the old frail rocking chair. She remembered how her father had often sat on it, the rocking chair wipping back and forth.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and...

Rocking just like the ocean's waves.

* * *

Her body was still so very small. Fragile, her limbs frail and so easily breakable.

Those weren't a thoughts a good father was supposed to have. But despite the mistakes many - especially demigods - tended to make, gods were not men.

Poseidon did not consider himself to be a kind being. He delighted in the suffering of others, even more when it was him who graciously delivered said suffering. He had slaughtered and drowned more mortals than all serial killers put together mostly out of sheer boredom - and when it was not enough...

Well, it sufficed to say that Poseidon was what humans would call a monster, a beast cleverly disguised as man; a human looking shell conceiling what lay beneath.

Tilting his head to the side, his eyes still firmly staring at the small form in front of him, the god reminded himself to breathe. It wasn't because his body required any oxygen. There was no need to pull air into his artificially made lungs.

But there was, because there was an unfamiliar feeling weighing down his heart - and since when did feelings hurt so much? - making his fingers twitch with the urge to...

Destroy? Sow destruction? Break any and everthing to pieces?

Poseidon despised denial. It never solved anything, and running away was never quite his forte.

He was already far too attached. Dangerously attached to this little demigod slumbering peacefully before him in the sand, a blanket curled around her. He wanted to grab this child and never let go. He desired this warmth that would lighten his tainted soul. And he hadn't even talked to her yet. How much further would this obsession go? What would he be willing to do, what would he willing to _be_ in a few years?

He didn't know.

He should have kept his distance when she was still a baby after he held her for the first time. When this obsession was still more easily ignored. He should have.

But he hadn't. He hadn't wanted to turn back on this small being who made him feel _warm_.

Now, only moments before she first laid eyes on him, before he first talked to her - he could feel the weight of his decision.

He could still turn back. He should have destroyed this dreamscape and never see this child again. She already had too much control over his actions, his thoughts, _him_.

He could feel the shift in his Fate, practically see the two diverging paths he could tread.

His rationality was screaming at him to choose the first path. To avoid the path that could easily destroy all he had done in the last millenia.

It was tempting. So very tempting, because gods were not supposed to be controlled by anything.

But he didn't want to.

The first path hadn't made him happy. Hadn't made him content. It had made him painfully empty.

The second path...

(Had there ever been a choice - truly - in the first place?)

He took a step forward, and stretched out his hand.

* * *

AN: Well, been quite a while, huh? I wasn't planning on taking such a long break, but suddenly months passed and... well... sorry?

I am officially back! I don't know when I'll update my other stories, but at the very least I'll start writing again.

I hope you liked the newest chapter. I wanted to show a bit more of the characters, before we continue with the story.

C'ya soon,

AriesOrion


End file.
